After The Rain

I've been working on this my writing thing and it's been fun so far. I've actually done it with a bit of trepidation but being able to do something constantly has filled me with so much joy. It's like I've recently discovered myself. True. :)

Anyway, so writing instructor asked me to do a story in the second person and my last post was my supposed attempt to write something in the second person. if you see the kain yab wey my teacher yab me ehn.... But being a sweetheart that he is, he told me to go and read one girl's blog and see how she wrote a particular post. Like a light bulb going on in my head, I immediately knew what to do.
His response Now you know what I asked you to do. this is still not good enough sha, work harder

Anywya, I hope you guys sha like it.

xxx

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The Thunder

The sound of crashing thunder, the howl of the winds threatnening to take down everything in their path; the smell of the rain and the the striking of lightning leaving in its trail a glare bright enough to give an illusion of daylight. But you know better, you know that with every drop of the rain a darkness spreads within you. It is not enough to say that after the storms come a calm, because you know that with every storm, there has been another, and another and still another. You live because you are too much of a coward to do otherwise.
There is singing, and even though the people singing it are standing all around you, you can only hear it in a distance.
“when peace like a river
Attendeth my way
When sorrows like seas billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hath taught me to say
Even then, it is well, with my soul”

How can there be peace in the midst of this crashing thunder? The skies howl loudly again and you gaze up at the sky, the showers of the rain, like the tears of the sky. Nature seems to get how you feel, no one else seems to. You stare in silence, and you hear the words “dust to dust, ashes to ashes”, you don’t remember how the little shovel got into your hand, but you’re pouring the sand into the pit. You’re counting “one, two, three…”. Someone nudges you, people are milling around, all with words of comfort “Ireti, it is well. Be strong” “Take it easy Ireti. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh”. Strong arms hold you and pull you away. “Baby, let’s go home”
Like a dam whose barriers are broken down, that word “home” breaks something down, something you’ve managed to hold in for exactly. You realize there is no “home”, there is nowhere to go, there is nowhere called “home”. You let out a loud guttural scream and crumble right there on the ground
“No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I want my baby. Give me back my baby. I want my son. I want my son.”
The heavens open up some more, it is raining heavily now, you're on the floor. It doesn't matter that you're sitting in the red sand on the grounds of Earthen Vaults. The roll of thunder is inside and outside of you. You do not want it to stop because it has become a familiar sound. You're one with thunder. It has become a part of you.
"Ireti, Ireti, Ireti"

The Storm

"I can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
'gainst my window (against my window)
I can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
'gainst my window (against my window)"

Missy Elliot's voice fills your head, your head is against the car door and the rain drops hit the window pane. With every slap of the rain, you’re transported to another time and place. It was another time when the storms of infertility and miscarriages rocked the boat of your existence. With every miscarriage you realize that something lays within you that is able to stand irrespective of the storms of life, you trudge on and yet again, it hits. Sorrow, tears, and blood like tidal waves and each one came with a force strong enough to topple and somehow you find an anchor. You reach out for him and his hand squeezes yours, he holds on to him. The car stops for a second you are back to the present reality and you realize the tears are from your eyes and the blood flows from your heart. The sorrow lingers deep within your soul. You feel the pressure on your hand again, you don’t turn around, and he doesn’t expect you to. He’s telling you without words “We are going to make it through this, together”
After years of trying to have a baby, you’re blessed with a baby boy. You choose to call him “Tamilore” because he’s nothing short of a blessing from God. He’s a good boy, the star and the light of your life. He’s the reason for which you get up in the morning and go to work, because you want him to have the best things you can give him. So you go to work and you come back every day, knowing that you’ve been blessed thoroughly.
“Ireti, where are you? I need you to come home now” It was downhill from then on. The words keep flashing through you head. You’re hearing it all over again, you’re reliving the last 7 days in your head again. “Kidnapped”, “ransom”, “ten million”, “confirmatory call”
The ‘confirmatory call’ never came. The money was taken to the drop off point. You know this because you stood anxiously by the door as they drove out of the house. Willing to remain at the door till your 9 year-old runs into your arms screaming “mama” you stand there till it starts raining, and then you go inside. He’ll come home. Home, where you all belong.

The Sunshine

"God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference"

The car pulls into the driveway of the house and there’s stillness in the air. You are still staring out of the window, but it takes a minute before you realise that the rain has stopped. The door of the car is being opened and you’re being helped out of the car you realise that the sun is shining brightly. The dark clouds have given way for a clear blue canvas spread in the sky. There’s a rainbow in the horizon, you squint while trying to look at it, with a desire to put things into perspective, you stop and stare. People are milling around, there’s an uncomfortable silence, and everyone is waiting for you to take that first step towards the house. The step which indicates the rest of your life is continuing without Tamilore. The one which says you’re willing to move on.
You’re being held by your shoulders; support.
“We’ll be fine love”
You turn and stare at him. Swollen eyes , the result of sleepless nights. Days and nights of liasing with the police and the security detail from the office, working tirelessly to bring your little boy back home, all to no avail.

The clear blue skies bear no indication of the turmoil that preceded it. The rainbow which lines the edge of the blue canopy does not in any way let on that there had been a rumble in the sky, an outpouring of rain. ‘Twas all gone, the darkness; and like a new sheet spread across the wide expanse of the sky a new day.
You step forward, knowing that irrespective of the thunders, and the storm, there is always the sunshine that comes after it. He who holds the canopy of the sky with his hands is not going to live you nor forsake you.
So with an outstretched hand, you take the hand of your husband and your best friend and you take a step forward, into forever.

Alas, the world didn't end!!!

I'm a blog whore. I prowl the streets of blogville everyday, looking for something interesting to read. I jump on links posted on Twitter in search for something witty and interesting to read. I have found soo many funny and interesting blogs, sometimes I don't go back there because I don't remember their urls and for some reason I don't follow so many of them, thus I don't know when they have new posts. One thing I've discovered in my blog-ashewoism is this.. there are FUNNY and SMART people in this world ehn... like rolling on the floor humorous people. Sometimes I'm ashamed of my blog (x_x). If I were me I probably would not want to come back to this blog, so for those of you who make time out to actually read whatever garbbage I'm spewing on these pages... I thank you. Lol ( yes I'm practising my speech.. who knows when I might marry a prince or receive nobel peace prize for errr... world's life saving efo riro :D). Anyway, I promised to give my thoughts on this End of the world thing shey? ok that's why I'm here.

I rememmber when I was a lot younger, 'they' said the world was going to end on the 28th of October. My first thought was "Ah Ope oh! It's exactly a day after my birthday (hint hint.. for those of y'all who wanna get me pressies.. not too early to start planning) As a child, my sole priority was having to 'do my byday' Lol

An old preacher in the US of A predicted that the world would end on the 21st of May 2011. It was one of those things you hear and laugh. I mean for time immemorial people have been saying the world would end. Even in the time of Apostle Paul, they had been predicting the end of the world and he had to tell them " guys guys chill out. Only God knows when the world would end" (i paraphrased) Anyway we cracked jokes about how people who were interested in divesting themselves of their earthly possessions should hurry and do so since they had no need for it as the Harold Camping Chariot was definitely coming to take them home. I mean if thw world is going to end why would you need your Bentley?

We were riding to work and my friend asked me "If the world ends truly on saturday what would you be sad you didn't do? things you want to do before you go..." I said "nothing" She said "ahn ahn... u don't want to marry? have experienced the joy of child birth?" I had a blank look on my face as I gave it a second thought, my response was still the same "nothing"

Now don't get me wrong oh, I'm not saying I don't wanna be very rich or I don't wanna yell in the labour room, or have mind blowing married sex... I'm just saying.. I have no control over the time schedule of my existence here so why should I say by fire by force oh, i must born pikin before I kpai?or "ah the world must not end before I marry oh" IS IT IN UR HANDS? Last week a guy who was in law scool with me was shot dead in his own home... four days after his wedding. It was shocking and extremely sad. Right there, his life was snuffed out of him by assasains.

My point? it doesn't make any difference. Everybody's story is different. There is no checklist of 'achievements' that makes your life story more fulfilling than the next mans own. Make the best of your life. Touch lives. Make a difference, and when the time comes... hang your boots and go down a hero knowing that you did what you could in the time GIVEN to you.

Much love
xxx

Trial and Error

Hey people,
So if you're on Twitter and if you've heard of a man called Harold Camping or that's what I think his name is sha... you would have heard that the world is ending tommorrow the 21st of May 2011. SO I was going to do a long post about the world ending and my thoughts on it... as a friend of mine engaged me in a convo about things I would like to do before the world ends. Ofcourse "Contrary Ronke" did not care a hoot whether the world is ending or not. I promise I'll still do an end of the world post tonight... I mean.. you guys should read it before the world ends tommorow no be so?? LOL

It's been a while since I was here. I know I said I would repent and al but I've been lazy. Actually I haven't. I have been trying my hands on fiction writing and it's been fun. My brain stretches when I have this idea and sometimes I find mytself acting out my life as whatever character I am trying to build. It's been fun really. I have this "writing instructor" who tells me stuff to write and gives me a deadline and I like it cause it gives me a sense of purpose. I don't know if this writing thing is for me (OK I Lie... i know it is what I want to do, I just don't know if I'm good enough and also not sure how the people who fuel their cars from writing go about it!!) You see my instructor is a bit of a meanie... ( actually I love him so so much.. still a meanie though!! :p) and what I wanna share with you guys was rejected by him in fact he gave me a "thumbs down" :( **sad sad sad face**

I hope you guys are not as harsh as he is sha. Enjoy

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Temi met Michael at V Bar in Lekki. It was one of those days you learned that the traffic on Ozumba Mbadiwe Avenue had gone on for hours and your best bet was to steer clear of it. Her colleague had suggested that bar, it was a sports bar and pretty decent, they could wait out the traffic and gist at the same time. Life was hectic enough as it was without having to add the stress of Lagos traffic to the madness of work all in one day. He was a gorgeous looking man and he knew it. He spoke to her slowly and quietly as if his voice was a treasure which he gave out in tiny doses. Offering to buy her another drink, he slid into the chair beside her. “Nice bag” he said as he put her bag on the table “Channel? Last season? It tickled her to no end that he knew about bags, you could tell that he was slowly charming her up. They chatted for over an hour and she giggled like a teenager every second of the way. He interjected every line with a word in pidgin and teased her mindlessly about being a light head when she said she didn’t want another drink. She gave him her card and asked him to call her, it was the boldest she had ever been, but this was a new Temi, she was happy she was not being so shy and introverted any more.
He called her later that night, and the day after that, and even after that. He was like a drug her system could not get enough of. It was like being on a roller coaster and she was not ready to get off. When he touched her she burned on the inside, like a teenager experiencing her first surge of hormones. Every time they got together, it was like a merging of two lost souls, her body craved his and his desired to mould her. She felt alive, he ignited her in a way no one else had. It was as if she had been locked up all her life and the night she met Michael was her liberation day. Her body told her head that she wanted this forever, nothing else mattered. The fact that he borrowed her car ever so often did not matter, she was cooped up in the office all day long anyway. What did it matter that he was owing her almost half a million naira now, monies he collected in little portions, all in the name of running his business. There was always a new idea he came up with, the last one was a travel club. He was going to get a bunch of people to take much needed holidays to the far east. What did it matter that she knew the ideas were the product of a child who never grew up living somewhere in the body of an adult. However, that body did wonderful things to her and so when she thought about it she let go of her inhibitions. After all, she accused Akin of being too serious. She broke up with him because he had every detail of his life AND her planned to the minutest detail. He didn't want to live a little. Everything was serious, and calculated with him. He was good, and kind and sweet but he never wanted to try something new. Temi was glad she allowed herself to live a little, enjoy the little thrills of life.
She was going to be thirty, she'd gone through the phases of people wondering when she was going to get married. "Always the bridesmaid; never the bride". Her life with Akin had been great; he was a good man, stable. Almost too stable infact, but she wanted more.
"I want to live a little, you never want to go anywhere, do anything new. I'm sick and tired of living like this." She was 25; it appeared life was stagnant so she threw in the towel. He tried to talk to her, to get her to listen... She wanted change. They had been together for almost 4 years; they were like an old married couple, only she wasn't happy. He tried to talk her out of it "tell me what you want me to do? Tell me how I can make it better. I want to be with you, because you complete me, you are mine". When a woman is done and filled with discontent, anything you do would only breed resentment and anger, and so he let her be.
She enjoyed being single, she had no restraints, no inhibitions. She travelled every year to a new city, tried out new things. Sky diving in Dubai, she volunteered at the winter olympics in Vancouver, saw the Massai of Kenya. She lived and she wanted to continue living, with the perfect man beside her, who wanted the same things she wanted.
You could tell that Michael lived, and Temi wanted this. That night he was wearing a Ralph Lauren Tee tucked into his jeans so the "H" of his Hermes belt was unmistakable. Michael exuded raw sexuality, his muscles strained against the shirt she just wanted to touch him, feel him. The only thing that kept Temi glued to her sit was a niggling thought which she'd been unable to shake off "how does he afford a new Hermes belt and Gucci slippers and his business isn't taking root???" He cared about her; he was always there to listen to her troubles about work. She shared with him her achievements. It didn't matter that the week after she told him she'd got a mid-year performance bonus, he told her about a brilliant idea he just had of how they could help people ship cars in from America and make an interest, if only he had a little start-up support. She pushed those thoughts aside because when it came to it, it was the little things that count. She had been talking about wanting to try out Indian food and so that evening they sat outside the Indian restaurant on Isaac John road in Ikeja and just there out of the blues, he knelt down with a gleaming ring in his hands he asked her to marry him.
**
Michael and his buddies were in the living room when she walked in carrying a plastic bag of groceries. They said distracted Hellos to her and continued watching the game. The air reeked with the smell of tobacco and a quick dart of her eyes to the table confirmed that it had been accompanied by Hennessey. Four grown men, sitting around idly all day drinking and smoking without a care in the world, you could tell that it was the bringer of the bacon who just walked in. This was the case literally as Temi untied the plastic bags that contained the bacon and ham she just bought, and arranged them neatly in the freezer. Shutting the door with a purpose you could sense the unusual vibe of anger and discontent resonating through her. It was the tobacco; she had asked that smoking be done outside her living room, on the balcony, downstairs, on the road, anywhere but her house.
Who marries a man with no source of income, no desire to provide for himself? Who marries a man who makes her body sing to the highest heaven at night but is content with sponging off his wife by day? His friends were losers, all hoping to "score". That was "loserspeak" for getting a financially comfortable, upwardly mobile professional woman. She didn't have to be too pretty as long as she looked like she was thirsty for something, or waiting to be found.
Temilola Irukevwe wanted to live and here she was indeed living yet dying slowly on the inside. You could see the misery in her eyes, the exhaustion as she cleared the dirty dishes in the sink. Ever so often her mind wandered to how life would have been different if she didn’t have to worry about paying the bills, buying fuel for the generator, paying the laundry man and the security guard. No point in crying over spilt milk. She peeled the potatoes and she hummed to DJ Klem and Efa “Try Again” the words “Everybody’s searching or waiting to be found” resonated in her head, in her search and her quest for something she found Michael. “I don’t care how many times I tried, I’ll try again, I’ll try again” The tears flowed and she sang, tears for herself because she realised she was waiting to be found. She grabbed a newspaper with which she would toss the potatoes peels and she spread it out on the kitchen worktop. The picture on the obituary jumped out at her and she let out a loud guttural scream. The words “Akin Kuteyi” “beloved son and brother” “motorcycle accident” “37 years old” floated before her eyes.
She wanted to live a little, and now she was dead inside. She had asked him to live a little, and now he was dead inside and outside.

Here and now

This is something i wrote as an entry for a writing workshop advert i saw in the papers last week. I changed my mind about sending it in. A friend of mine called it raunchy. Another friend said it had her juices stirred. :D. I totally enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it too.
Have a good day :)


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I could hear the rustling sounds of the fallen leaves outside my window, the whirling of the wind and the slamming of windows. The sun had set and the evening breeze was there, sweeping away everything in it's path. One part of me wanted to go and close the window and pull the blinds, but I was being held back, by a force, so primal, so intense, so real. My eyes were closed, but for the clashing winds and the sound of threatning rain, I would have been completely oblivous to the world around me. I hung on to him for fear that if I let go I'd fall down, such was the intensity of the wave that was going through me. I felt his hands run down my back and then up my side, all the while his tongue plunged deep inside my mouth. It was like a dance, a primal quest for survival, what his tongue and mine were engaged in. I gave as much as I got. I gasped, knowing he had his palm on the cusp of one of the nubian twins. He rubbed my nipples and I felt his mouth pull away, I gasped again, as one who was being deprived of oxygen at the same time knowing that I would feel the tide beneath break loose once he kissed my now erect buds. I could only hope as I held him. I touched him, the hard length of him, all mine. I couldn't get a thought through my head, it felt like the whirling winds were only in my head and not outside my window, I could not think straight, because this was Seun. It has always been Seun for me. With him, I couldn't go through the motions, it was like my body recognized his and like a flute at the hands of a seasoned concert player, my body hummed. It wasn't Tumi, head of procurement at Cristol Oil and Gas, this was not Tumi, Chief Usher at Upper Room Fellowship Centre, this was just Tumi, primal female, nubile Tumi, at the hands of the only man who ever made her purr. And like a cat long deprived of milk, I purred as his fingers caressed my now damp panties! "Let's go upstairs", I head his voice ringing far away. How he managed to string together those words will forever elude me for I was ready to be ravished here and now on this wet wet wet June evening..
Sated is really putting it mildly, how I felt hours later. I got up to go to the bathroom and my limbs reminded me of how I felt. I stared at the mirror, I looked disheveled and yes, sated. With a wry smile on my face I traced my lips and thought, it would always be good between us. I thought about the times we spent deluding ourselves that we were just friends, all the years of suppressing what we both felt. Till that new year's day in 2003 when Alex called to tell me our Mom had died! I was confused, and numb. It was like I was on auto pilot. My Malaysian flatmate, bless her heart Christie called Seun. My friend, my gossip partner, my study mate, my confidante, the closest thing I had to family in that cold cold country, he came as soon as he could. He met me sitting on the floor, staring into the closet like a child! He held me for the longest time, and then he kissed me. I remember leaning into that kiss with the force of a thousand tsunamis. I guess I thought somehow, I could ease out the pain and hurt I felt. I smiled now at the memory of how that night ended. I had had the best sex of my life with my best friend. My best friend who was going home in 6months to marry his high school sweetheart.
8 years later, the roles are reversed and he has come to me for comfort. Tolu walked out on him and took his boys. I'd never stopped loving him. I glared at my reflection in the mirror, chiding myself "Tumi, fantastic, mind blowing, out of the world sex is NOT the same as love". But he came to me, I said to myself, he came to me... I have him now, and for me it has always been him. I walked back into the room, got into the bed and went astride Seun. I felt him stir, all of him, I took him inside me and threw my head back. If all I had was here and now, I was willing to take my chances.

I shall not die

"I shall not die but live and declare the works of the Lord"

My first conscious memory of these words from the bible was in July 1998. My aunty had cancer and the doctors had told her that it had spread into her bone marrow so she was brought back to Nigeria to die. I'd just come back home from secondary school and my parents were not in the country so my other aunty and I were alone in the house taking care of her. She was in a lot of pain when she was awake and to douse the effect of the pain she was put on Morphine. As you can imagine, the church folk kept trooping into the house with prayers and words of encouragement and bible passages. Prayers of different types, forms and nature (ehn you sha get my point... orishirishi). People came and prayed. She was told to recite that passage over and over and over "I shall not die but live to declare the works of the Lord". She recited the words, and on the 5th of August, my aunty died. I watched her suffer in so much pain, and she died.

As a young christian I just couldn't understand it, shebi they said she should declare, shebi she declared. I was torn between my grief and my wavering faith. I knew when my grandma died and she died in her sleep and she was old, but here was my aunty... aged 51 who taught me vowels and consonants... in pain and she still died after all that prayer? ha! I was so so confused. As I grew older I learnt that our prayers have to go with our faith, that when you pray you have to believe that our prayers would be answered. So I said ok, lesson learnt. Later on, I learnt that God has the sole discretion to answer prayers, so even when we pray, and we have faith that our prayers would be heard, HE has the final say cos he's the 'perfect' ONE who knows what is best for us and in the end of the day we say "thy will be done".

So does this mean that there is no need to pray so hard any more? does this mean that no matter how often we DECLARE something it is not a guarantee of getting what we want? I mean does this mean that people who die have no desire to live any more? is their work on earth done? if they had prayed harder, would they have lived? was their faith not strong enough to hold them through? I mean I prayed/ we all prayed for my cousin when he had the accident and he survived, he was bleeding into his brain and he survived, with a facial scar.. he survived.. and then Sage (my brother) dies?? But who are we to question God?? Does this mean that we should just take a siddon look approach with God and just say "You're gonna do what you would do anyway... I don't need to make any effort". If something doesn't work out for me, how do I know if I'm being inhibited by sin or if I'm just not praying hard enough or if I don't believe it enough or if God just doesn't want it for me? How do I know?

I know my blog isn't a theology class but sometimes I'm just sooo confused at the dynamics between God up in heaven and us earthlings, creatures of the Most High. What's our role exactly in the grand scheme of things?

Last night my sister got news that her friend died. He'd been ill for about 3 months and he got better. She was so excited that God did this great tremendous thing in the life of her friend and how He was faithful and next thing she hears Shegzy is dead. How do you reconcile that? is my faith too little to grasp how God works? Do I need to grow deeper in God? How much more faith do we need to have? and is it only when you face the final point of death that we hands off and say "Have your way oh Lord" If I declare that I shall not die but live to declare the works of the Lord, and the will of God is for me to die before I'm 30, does it mean I didn't declare hard enough?

I wanna live my life in such a way that when I'm gone I'd have achieved what I was placed on earth to do. I think I have gotten to the point where I don't care if I pass away today. I am not afraid of death. I have come to the point where I know that any day, any time I can slump and die. No this is not me being "unchristianly". This is me knowing that in the end of the day I'm not the one who determines whether I get to take the next breath or not, so why should I be going gragra. I'm going to live my life in the fear of God, and submit to the total and final will of God. I will have faith that HIS good and perfect will be done in my life. I'm not sure about declaring that I will not die. However, I will declare that while I have breath in me, I will live a life worthy of the number of years that God has chosen to give me...freely.

Whether or not i die... it's completely up to HIM

Wifey Much

I've been meaning to write about this issue for a longgggg time, I've just not been able to put my thoughts together long enough to actually type. I pray I'd be able to hit the 'publish' button today Saturday the 16th of April. hehehe. In other TOTALLY UNRELATED news... we have the presidential elections in Nigeria today. I woke up and i went to the polling booth to get accredited. I'm kinda proud of myself because I never thought I'd actually go through with it for two reasons;1, my mother practically threatened me with all sorts of things to get me to register and 2, I don't know who I'm gonna vote for. I know I want the basics of light, constant power, good roads, running water, a good transportation system and all that but I'm not sure that any of the people running are going to do anything differently anyway so I just felt i'd rather not vote. However, if you're a young educated Nigerian right now, and you dare say you're not voting it's tantamount to saying "may the refineries never work in Nigeria again lai lai" or " Nepa will never give us power again" so when it is 12, I shall stroll back to the polling booth and pray that the Holy Spirit gives me guidance as i thumbprint.

Ok, enough about politics, that isn't the point of today's post. As always I need your opinion on something that's niggling at the back of my head.

As a girl, if your boyfriend has a place of his own and your boo is a bit of a slob, do you clean up while you're there or is that tantamount to being a "wifey". Guys, if your girl helps you clean up a bit, fold your clothes, make sure your sink/work top is clean and dry, do you think she's being forward?

on the other hand if he stays at home with his folks and his mum and aunties are making sunday lunch do you go help out or do you sit not wanting to be deemed forward?

A friend of mine told a story of how she went to visit her boyfriend in Porthacourt and found the dude was sleeping with his landlord's daughter/niece/sister-inlaw. Anyway, my friend B, being a very calm 'porraicourt' girl told the 'helper' that she wasn't here to quarrel or fight with her. She said her issue was this, "if the girl dey help me sleep with am, she suppose dey help me dey clean the house na... no be sey I go come from lagos bathroom go still dey dirty, room go dey dirty,na me go still dey come buy things for inside fridge and all that". It was hilarious. Really what role does one play as a girlfriend play when she's in a 'serious' relationship. I don't mean where you guys are just f&^k buddies oh!!! (pardon my french) cos in that case no one expects you to notice anything other than what you're there for and how comfortable or rough you like getting IT!

Personally, I don't think it's an abomination to clean up your boyfriends place, especially if he lives alone, and if you're not a 'homebuddy' I think you can arrange for him to get a cleaner to come in once in a while to clean up the place. I mean you go there ALL the time anyway, why would you feel comfortable in a place that's so dirty and untidy? and no I'm not encouraging boys to be slobs but if I don't think the girls who date slobs should be given a free pass. Unless ofcourse she's a slob too. My cousin Aji lived in my house once. He's like the most untidy person I know in this world. His room always had dirty plates from two weekends in a row, his dirty shirts were always on the floor, his stinky socks and shoes were always on full display. I remember how my sister and cousin always used to ask him to clean up his room, but one thing I remember vividly is how girls used to come and go through that room. He had girlfriends who brought food to him in that smelly dirty room. I was always amazed. Don't get me wrong oh, Aji is such a sweetheart but I couldn't get past girls who dated him and stayed for hours in that room.

Am i the one with issues? cos no way am I gonna allow you keep me in a dirty place, instead i'll just have us meet somewhere else oh! Hian!!!! Worriz all that?

Anyway, is it too much to clean up where you'd be 'hosted' or is a girl over stepping her boundaries if she washes the dirty dishes in your sink? what if she arranges for someone to come and keep your place clean and tidy? do u assume she's fishing for a marriage proposal?

Is cleaning up too much?

Intellectual Redundancy

Towards the end of last year I was in a place of confusion with regards my career. I was stuck in a rut, I didn't know what I wanted ( maybe I still don't know sef, hence, why I'm writing this) and I was rather confused and unhappy. Scratch that, it wasn't my career per se that was making me unhappy, it was the fact that I needed more money and I wasn't seeing it happen. So I started poring over the Tuesday and Thursday Guardian, searching for anything, any opening, something, one thing, ANYTHING! I was confused the private sector had nothing for me since all I kuku want is money isn't it? I asked around, "what field of the public sector pays well?" I mean i knoew for sure I definately didn't wanna go to the ministry of justice... hell to the nizzle!!! Not after being in an office with airconditioning and fast inernet and working photocopiers and intercom! no no no!! I wasn't willing to go below what I had grown used to professionally. Special shout out to our friends who work in the civil service... May the Lord bless your hustle! Lol

Ok I digress, sorry. So in my quest for a new job or career opportunities, I was told that federal parastatals especially in the finance sector and in the oil and gas sector were the big payers!!! WooHoo!! I applied to NNPC and SEC. Fingers crossed on that! But the issue that arose is this.."INTELLECTUAL REDUNDANCY" These words have been swimming around in my head since January. I love to have money and all, but I also don't want to have spent 30years of my professional lives writing letters to external counsel reminding them to provide me with an update. **gasp** I mean it's all nice and dandy collecting money and all but what happens if I end up being one of those Director Generals with absolutely no clue on how the system works outside. I mean in this my office, bad as e bad reach I learn new things every day. I get exposed to high level international transactions, I may be getting paid peanuts but when I read about some transactions in the news, I have this secret smile inside knowing I worked on it or I heard about it. I asked a friend of mine what he thought about going to work in the public sector and how I was worried that my brain cells would atrophy if I just went to some parastatal to tweedle my thumbs, he said " Ronke, did you say they pay well? Omo, if you have a chance go there, take the money and if you feel your brain is dying out play Sudoku or something" I laughed really hard that day and thought, wow get a rubix cube, play sudoku, crosswords are there and you'd be find doing "availability at Corporate Affairs Commission"

The silent battle between wanting more money and being intellectually redundant. I spoke to my cousin recently about this issue. He works for a multinational investment bank and he has worked there for three years. He's moving to Nigerian Deposit Insurance Company in April. Now NDIC is a government parastatal and everyone I know who works there says "mehn... that place is the ish!! the money there is not small matter!" However, when I ask these guys about the kind of work they do i get a shrug of "you know this and that, a bit of this and a bit of that". This doesn't help someone like me who's already confused. So I asked my cousin the high profile investment banker "S, why aren't you afraid of intellectual redundancy" and he said " omo, na person wey no get sense go reash dat kain place siddon sey he no go study or advance himself. I mean Ronke, there's so much time and there are so many opportunities for scholarships and study leaves in the public sector that only a foolish person would rest on his oars and become intellectually redundant!" This was such a light bulb moment for me. like Selah or Eureka ( i really don't know if I've used those words appropriately but u sha get the general picture *kaching* *bells ringing*lol)

So there you have it, I found how to go chill with the "chillers" in the public sector and at the same time keep my brain working.

Pray with me oh, because the koko of all this is that I WANT MORE MONEY ;)